


Love Is The Only Future

by veronicaluv



Category: Spartacus: War of the Damned
Genre: M/M, post War of the Damned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-05
Updated: 2014-01-05
Packaged: 2018-01-07 13:27:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1120377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veronicaluv/pseuds/veronicaluv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Agron embraces his destiny.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Is The Only Future

Even now, he could not say his name.

"I would speak of the Cilician."

The nimble fingers bathing Agron's palm in sweet oil never faltered, nor did Nasir lift gaze from task as he worked the salve into healing flesh.

"Castus walks with his own gods now," Nasir muttered. "Spare no thoughts for him."

It was the response Agron expected, spoken in a tone that dissuaded further pursuit of a subject painful for them both. Frustrated, unsure whether to push the matter for fear of what he'd say with clumsy words but unwilling to let unwanted thoughts fester, Agron contented himself for the moment with watching Nasir perform a ritual they'd shared since Agron's return from the Roman camp.

He no longer felt the searing agony of the nails that had pierced his hands. Toughened, scarred skin now covered his palms from fingers to wrist, sensation long returned but ability to firmly grasp the hilt of a weapon a goal that yet escaped him. Yet every day, morning and night, Nasir patiently rubbed the precious oil into Agron's hands, his thumbs digging deep into flesh grown thick and striated, his gentle words urging Agron to relearn tasks once accomplished without thought.

After burying Spartacus, they'd walked for days, their numbers still in the hundreds despite their defeat at the hands of Crassus. Each nightfall they made camp, and each sunrise saw fewer of them set on the path to the north. The increasingly cold nights took the weak, the old and the young, and those who did survive often chose a different direction to cast their fate. Now there remained less than fifty, some of them known to Agron as slaves emancipated in the rebels' quest for freedom, a few even from the villa of Nasir's dominus. Laeta, the Roman woman, remained with them, as did Gannicus' woman, Sybil. There were children to tend, food and water to procure, shelter to be found and bodies to bury, every day much the same, only the terrain changing beneath their feet.

Nasir never left Agron's side if he could prevent it. And in those brief moments they were parted, Agron had only to lift his gaze and look around, for Nasir, even with all his self-appointed duties among the refugees, was never so far that a quiet word or a shared glance wouldn't see his return to Agron with a smile that Agron knew beyond doubt had never been given to another.

Now, alone at night in their tent of torn and blood-stained fabric, the small fire pit dug into the dirt barely able to hold back the bitter cold that seemed to deepen with each day, Agron wondered if he should obey Nasir's unspoken plea for silence or ignore it in favour of slaying forever the beast that had driven him from Nasir's arms.

"I would yet speak of him."

Nasir lifted his gaze from his task, dark eyes that had captured Agron's heart so long ago now shadowed in the wavering firelight. He'd knelt in the dirt to tend the scars in Agron's hands, but Agron would not have him remain so. Pulling out of Nasir's grasp, he blotted the excess oil on a nearby rag and then took one of Nasir's hands in his own, guiding him upward until Nasir sat beside him on the pile of straw and thin rugs they slept upon.

And still, Nasir's eyes did not give away his thoughts, though the love revealed there never wavered. Normally so expressive, those eyes warned Agron that with one word, one name, he'd threatened to open wounds so recently healed--wounds not of the body, but scars etched into their souls.

"Then speak," Nasir murmured, "if it will set heart at rest."

His movements still too clumsy for his liking, Agron held Nasir's hand between both of his own and lifted it to his cheek. The gesture was unplanned, meant only to calm his own swiftly beating pulse, but he could see the wariness fade from Nasir's gaze. Nasir turned his palm to Agron's cheek, cradling it, cocking his head to one side as a small smile came and went.

Agron closed his eyes and pressed closer to Nasir, the tenderness mixed with uncertainty in Nasir's gaze suddenly too much to bear. He would never leave Nasir again, this he knew. Not even death would see them separated, and the small part of him that wondered if the gods did indeed exist was quick to send a prayer that he would see Nasir to the afterlife first so that he may follow by his own hand--a final act of atonement for the ill-advised abandonment that had set Agron upon his own path to destruction.

Opening his eyes, he placed a kiss upon Nasir's knuckles, then lowered their hands. "His death was not in vain."

Nasir nodded once. "He died a warrior."

"He died loving you." Immediately, Nasir made to withdraw, but Agron tightened his grip. "A thing I can no longer set down as mark against him."

Nasir turned his fingers to encircle Agron's wrist, a gentle, steadying hold. "It was favour I did not seek, nor return. He stood as good friend, nothing more."

Heart clenching at the need to be believed evident in Nasir's voice, Agron was quick to reassure him. "Nor do I wish to destroy memory of such friendship."

"Then what--"

"His last words, spoken on field of battle, do you remember them?"

Nasir did not reply, instead lowering his lashes until Agron could no longer see his eyes. "I cannot forget them."

"Nor can I. Nasir," Agron placed his fingers beneath Nasir's chin, guiding him to raise his gaze to meet Agron's own, "I do not seek to darken thoughts with memory of one you called friend. I only wish to give assurance that I took dying words to heart."

Nasir's brows drew together, confusion in his expression easily read in the firelight as he released Agron's wrist. "I do not pretend to understand your meaning."

The task he'd set himself proving more difficult than expected, Agron rose to his feet with a low growl, wishing that silken words came to him more easily. He was a man of violence, yet the most he could do now was stalk the length of their tent, then pivot to face Nasir.

"To follow Crixus was madness," he began, lifting his hand to silence Nasir when he would interrupt, "yet it was choice made from desire to see you forever safe from Rome's grasp. Every fucking Roman that died by the edge of my blade was one less shit that laid threat to your life. For that, I give no apologies."

"Nor are any demanded." Nasir rose to his feet, wiping his hands on the discarded cloth before tossing it aside as he drew near. "Why do you seek to live again moments that brought pain to us both?"

"You mistake intent." Agron lifted his hands so that Nasir could see the scars that contorted his palms. "Words are yet more clumsy to me than hands that cannot grasp sword." Unwilling to be separated from Nasir by more than a breath, he brushed his knuckles along the crest of Nasir's cheek, then slid his hand into Nasir's hair, drawing him into an embrace that Nasir returned without hesitation. "I cannot undo the past, nor harm caused by choice made in haste. But I can honour those who bought our freedom with their blood. Even--even Castus."

Agron felt a shudder run through Nasir's body at the mention of the Cilician and he tried not to flinch, instead focussing on the warmth and strength of the man in his arms, a pleasure he'd thought once lost to him forever.

The long days of battle at Crixus' side had brought one blessing, that of welcome exhaustion as night fell, a torpor so deep that precious thoughts of Nasir, alive and safe, were but fleeting shadows before black sleep overtook Agron. He chose to never question his decision nor let memories of the one who followed Nasir with eyes filled with hunger and longing distract him. Upon his return to the rebel camp and finding Castus alive, he'd had to face the very fear that had driven him to disaster. 

But something had passed between Nasir and Castus. It was apparent in the cautious way they regarded each other, in the empty spaces between muttered words that Agron overheard as he lay on his back in the tent he again shared with Nasir, too weak to stand alone in the agonizing days after his return.

At first, Agron could not bring himself to care. His world had been reduced to Nasir's voice, Nasir's gentle ministrations as he tended Agron's many wounds, Nasir's breathing as he slept nearby, close enough to touch yet not close enough to cause Agron pain. Barely healed, and with the threat of ever-encroaching Romans, Agron offered what was left of his broken body to Spartacus, only to be gently rebuffed and sent to lead to safety those who could not fight. Nasir had changed that hateful destiny with the gift of a cleverly fashioned sword, just as he had changed everything about Agron's life from the moment Agron had noticed him so long ago, a slim, graceful shadow amidst the blood and gore in the house of his dominus.

Nasir pulled back, his hands warm and soothing as they rested lightly on the strong curve of Agron's shoulders. "Every hour takes us farther from those who would once more enslave us. Do not let regret give added weight to footsteps already heavy with loss."

Removing Nasir's hands, Agron lifted one of them to tuck a kiss inside his palm. "I seek the opposite," he murmured. "I seek to make steps light with remembered words spoken by one who dared to love despite love unreturned."

"He wished to be you," Nasir said, voice equally hushed, "if only for one day."

"And it is my desire to honour such a wish, to live each day for you and to never leave your side, in this world or the next. Unless--" He hesitated, suddenly unable to give voice to his greatest fear.

"Unless?"

"A life beside me is no longer the desire of your heart." Agron swallowed and lowered his head. What he'd once tried to say with his actions must now be said with words, treacherous things that could never express his true meaning. "Even then," he continued, voice rough, "I could not bear to parted from you, yet I would swear to remain beyond your sight. The choice will always be yours."

"Foolish, foolish Agron." Agron lifted his gaze to find Nasir's eyes brimmed with affectionate tears. "And the sunrise that sees your love for me less than the day before? Or the moonset that witnesses your fear to lay with me, lest I see the want for another in your eyes?"

"That sun shall never rise," Agron ground out, hands straining to clench into fists, barely healed skin pulled tight, "nor shall any moon ever set upon such fucking blasphemy. Have I not proved love beyond all reason for you?"

Nasir smiled as a tear tipped over his lashes and slipped down his cheek. Cradling Agron's face between his two palms, he guided Agron down until their foreheads touched. "If love is madness," he whispered, "it is one we share. Had the gods not returned you to me, my love for you would burn just as strong. We are for each other, to live out our days together. Believe upon that and know that you are forever my beloved."

No words could convey the fullness of Agron's heart at the firmly spoken vow. Pressing his mouth to Nasir's, he tasted salt from tears shed in attempt to console Agron's uncertain yet unwavering heart. In that moment he finally believed that the great love he felt Nasir was returned in equal measure, it always had been, and the days ahead of them, however many there would be, would never see that love subside. Even as welcome passion sparked between them, so long denied by misunderstanding and circumstance, Agron could feel a slowly growing belief that despite untold hardship ahead, nothing could withstand what he and Nasir were becoming together. Children of rebellion once, they were now men of hope, men of purpose and, if the fucking gods allowed, men of peace.

As he worshipped Nasir with his body, his mouth and his rough, tender hands, Agron revelled in new-found hope that each day would see a brighter sunrise and that a life could be made without the shedding of blood. With Nasir in his arms, giving, loving, healing Agron with every kiss and caress, it was as it once was, the two of them lost in each other, the world outside forgotten.

Agron knew he would never lift sword again, but there were other needed tasks he could perform, and there were other ways to protect what he held most dear. Later, passion temporarily sated and Nasir fast asleep in the curve of his arms, Agron imagined a place of refuge, where he and Nasir could live as free men, simply and with no other purpose than to spend their days together. He did not dismiss the thought that there would be others searching for the same peace; he'd overheard Laeta and Sybil speak of sharing a home to shelter the orphans and young mothers, bolstered by the strength they'd find in numbers if others would join them, and he found the thought surprisingly pleasing. He knew Nasir would not only welcome such company but would thrive in the activity such an arrangement would require.

Nasir murmured and shifted, pressing deeper into Agron's embrace. Agron quieted his restlessness by tightening his arms and pressing a kiss to the warm space behind Nasir's ear. The spectre of Castus, whose only sin was to love in vain, faded with each hour, but lesson shared with dying breath remained. 

Tomorrow, Agron would speak with Nasir and confide his thoughts. They could journey on forever, never resting, never ceasing their search for something that may not exist. His home, his family--they were lost to him the day Duro died, and returning to the land of his people held no appeal. Or they could join with others on the same journey and attempt to make a life together, finding strength not only in numbers required for defence but in the worth of each man and woman. Even Laeta had found her place amongst the refugees and now Agron saw her as more than just Roman. New bonds had been forged and whilst he could not imagine calling her friend, she bore a mark as revealing and as binding as his own.

Yes, the time for wandering without purpose had passed. Plans needed to be laid, choices given to those who once had no choice. Supplies must be tallied and divided, along with all other resources. Those who wanted to move on could do so, with share gladly given, but those that remained with him and Nasir would see value in working together toward common goal. 

As Agron settled into a sleep more restful than any he'd experienced since Sinuessa, he turned thoughts away from the past and toward a future that meant only one thing to him--a second chance to spend a lifetime at Nasir's side.


End file.
